


Stay.

by ObviouslyAnonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel doesn't kill Samandriel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feels, Past Torture, Season/Series 08, You're a doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObviouslyAnonymous/pseuds/ObviouslyAnonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't kill Samandriel, instead bringing him to you. You're a doctor, and one of the few humans who can see an angels wings. Castiel ditches you and Samandriel and leaves you to patch him up and deal with the broken, wounded, psychologically damaged angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Name Is Samandriel

You hear the distinct flapping of wings from behind you and instantly turn around. Castiel stands there, his arms wrapped around a young man in a soiled red and white.. fast food uniform?

"Y/N. I need your help." He says, blood dripping from the corner of his eye. He looks like shit, but the man beside him looks like a shit smoothie blended by hell itself. You drop the book you were reading and run over to him.

"What happened? Who is this?"

"I-I am an angel of -" The man, now apparently angel fast food worker, manages to stutter out before screaming in pain. It tears your heart in half, and you rush over to help Castiel lower him onto the couch.

"Samandriel. His name is Samandriel." Cas says. "Take care of him." He says, and you hear the flutter of wings signifying his departure. Dammit Cas, you curse in your head. You know nothing about how angels heal. I'm a doctor, not an expert on angels.

Samandriel grips his head and screams again. It's filled with so much agony, you cringe. Not wasting any time, you run into the kitchen and grab the medical supplies you keep under the sink. It isn't much, but it'll have to be enough.

"Hey there," You keep your voice soft and gently touch his hand. His screams quiet and turn into pained moans and grunts. "I'm y/n. I'm just going to clean your wounds, alright?"

There was no response, not that you had really expected one. Dabbing a wet cloth onto his forehead, you gasp when the blood is wiped away. Someone had drilled into his skull. Multiple times. Realization dawned upon you. He wasn't just in a battle, he was tortured. You peeled off his shirt and inspected the fresh scars. For weeks, months maybe.

The wounds on his head, well, you really don't know what to do about those. You clean them the best you can before wrapping his upper forehead completely in gauze and ace bandages. The other wounds, on his arms and back you sew up. 

Without any warning, he latches onto you, burying his face in your neck and sobbing. His cries are loud, painful. Heartbreaking. You blink away the tears that form in your own eyes and gently rub his back and hum lullabies into his ear. It takes hours for him to close his eyes and calm his breathing. When you’re sure he’s asleep, you try to extricate yourself from him but he roughly yanks you back. 

“Stay.” He says, and the weak voice that comes from his strong grip doesn’t quite match. You can feel your soul aching to comfort his. Despite the uncomfortable position your in, legs tangled in his on the small couch and your face pressed against his bare chest, you fall asleep listening to the angels heartbeat.


	2. UP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so damn sorry, guys. I've been holding onto this chapter for ages. I'm a deplorable human being and for that I apologize. Samandriel wakes up. Fluff, basically. He'd be way too good for me if this was real.

You woke up to the feeling of someone threading their fingers through your hair. His wings were curled around you, casting shadows inside the inner cocoon. Your eyes flutter open and you see Samandriel staring at you.

"Good morning," You tentatively venture. A blush heats your cheeks as you realize you're still tangled around him. "Oh! I'm sorry for um, sleeping on top of you. I tried to avoid laying on your wounds but I tend to shift around while sleeping so are you okay? None of your stitches split, right? Nothing started bleeding again?"

Samandriel tries to smile. Really, he does. You can tell by the light and humor in his eyes and the slight upturn of his lips but his pain takes over. He winces, and his other hand, the one not running through your hair, tenses at your waist. His fingers have wrapped around your bare skin, that spot just above the top of your pants where your shirt has ridden up. It's a bit of a surprise, despite last night, how fierce his grip gets so quickly.

A low hiss leaves his lips and his eyes shut tight. He's no doubt broken several ribs. Immediately you make sure you're not pressing on him anywhere that would cause pain, but contact is unavoidable on the small couch. You don't know how to soothe him, and it makes your heart heavy. You place your hands on his face without even realizing what you're doing.

"Samandriel, sweetie, it's okay. You're safe here."

It doesn’t take an idiot to realize that the young angel is not only injured physically, but completely wrecked psychologically. You certainly aren’t one to take damage like this lightly, as you know all too well how it feels to suddenly have the safety carpet ripped out from under you. Whatever they did, they wanted to make sure that Samandriel felt the invasion into his psyche.

"I- I'm sorry Y/n it's just that everything hurts, so much. And I realize that this is improper, but your prescence is just so soothing and-"

"You don't have to apologize to me, okay?"

It was then that you noticed his wings- bedraggled and thin. You tried to sit up immediately. You hadn’t even thought of his wings before.

“Your wings,” You say, staying close to the angel. The focus of your gaze is trained solely on the objects of your thoughts and concern. Samandriel sits up too, his wings moving with him. You see his eyes, pained but widening with shock. “they’re wounded.”

“You can see them?” He asks, looking at you all of a sudden like you're some kind of strange creature.

“Of course I can see them.” You reach for the medical kit which had been placed on the coffee table sometime last night. “They’re freaking huge. Do you mind if I-” Gesturing towards his wings, you wait for him to give you the go-ahead. Castiel has told you a bit about angels, and you distinctly remember him saying how sensitive their wings are and then sort of blushing. He nods after a moment of hesitation.

All soft movements and gentle touches, you clean the deep lacerations in the skin between the layers of feathers. His feathers are beautiful, a million different shades of white and the palest hues of gold you’ve ever seen that meld together in this symphony of colors that would have rendered anyone speechless. There are some feathers which have fallen and are caught in the others, and you remove as few as possible and set them on the table. The shoulder and back muscles connected to his wings are inextricably knotted up, so you softly massage them with your free hand as you work, trying to alleviate some of his discomfort. He hums as you touch him, some sweet melody that you’ve never heard before. The feathers near his shoulder blades and back were the softest, and the smallest.

His hand catches your wrist when you move to stand up. “Don’t leave, please y/n.” He begs, his eyes wide and pleading. Jesus, he's practically perfected the puppy eyes.

You pry his fingers off of your wrist and entwine your hands together instead. The grip on your wrist made you feel uncomfortable. It brought back memories you didn’t want to ever resurface. Pushing them back into the dark hole deep inside the recess of your mind that it belongs in, you give him a small smile.

“I promise." You say, and sit back down for a moment. “I know angels don’t normally eat, but is there a way for you to..”

“Gain strength?” He finishes, and you nod. “I cannot return to heaven, but I will regain my strength with time.”

“Do you think you can walk? I think you’d be more comfortable in my bedroom, there’s more room for your wings there.”

Samandriel would have turned red had he not been in so much pain. “Yes.” He bites out, wincing as you help him stand. You shrug one of his arms over your shoulders and place your hand around his waist. He is thin, you realize, but there are still very hard muscles that tense at your touch. Slowly you both move down the hall and towards your bedroom. You open the door and have him lean against the dresser for a bit while you gather all the extra pillows from around the house and your laptop. You have a feeling that Samandriel is a Disney movie kind of angel.

When everything is settled you help him over and peel the covers back for him so he can crawl in the bed. You move in beside him, being careful of his wings which are stretched out wide behind the two of you. You curl into the blankets and notice how much more comfortable Samandriel seems.

“Is this.. okay? Are you comfortable?” You ask, wanting to make sure he isn’t in any discomfort.

“Yes, thank you for all you are doing, y/n. I am sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.”

“Don’t worry about it, Samandriel. You would have done the same for me. Have you ever seen a movie before?”

He tilts his head just a bit to the side and looks confused in the most adorable way you’ve ever seen. “I.. I’ve heard my older brother Balthazar complain about a movie called Titanic before, but have never seen one.”

You nod in understanding. Titanic was a truly horrible movie. “Well, the movie I’m about to show you is much better, trust me.”

You have a few you want to show him, you realize. Mousing over a few, you briefly close your eyes and pick one. The movie UP begins and Samandriel’s eyes light up with curiosity and fascination.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the rather short start of my latest fic. If you like my writing, check out my novel.  
> http://www.wattpad.com/story/29969122-naika


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